


The Chemistry Between Us

by storm_of_sharp_things



Series: storm’s 007 Fest 2020 [12]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, M/M, Potions Shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things
Summary: 007 Fest 2020Fill 9 of 9 for collab prompt tableThanks toSolarMorriganfor the prompt:Q runs the best potion shop in the city. Bond is a customer looking for a very specific potionJust because Lord Bond is a really very attractive and successful assassin doesn't mean he should assume Q is a hapless potions maker.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: storm’s 007 Fest 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810918
Comments: 21
Kudos: 72
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations, MI6 Cafe Collections





	The Chemistry Between Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SolarMorrigan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/gifts).



The first time Lord Bond walked into his potions shop, Q realized three things. One, the man either was or had been an assassin, based on his calluses, the number of weapons on him, and the way he moved. Two, he was incredibly wealthy, judging by the quality of his boots and clothing. And three, he was distractingly attractive.

He entered with a brisk stride, cape billowing dramatically, and glanced around once before coming over to Q where he stood grinding herbs.

“I require an antidote for poisons,” he announced.

Q blinked at the handsome, if craggy, face staring sternly at him. “For which poison?”

A faint scowl crossed the man’s face. “A universal antidote.”

Q set down his mortar and pestle. “Those are _quite_ expensive, since they require the rarest ingredients and the most skill.”

“I was given to understand that you might be skilled enough. But if you don’t have one...”

Q sniffed in offended pride. “I am probably the only potion maker in this city who could make one. And it happens that I do have a small stock, but as I said, it will be quite expensive.”

“Hmmm. Well, money is not an object in this case, but I won’t buy without testing it first.”

“Obviously.” Q sniffed again. “Do you have a poison?”

The man smiled for the first time, and Q fought an unexpected surge of desire at the pleasing way his eyes crinkled. “What kind of assassin would I be without a supply of poisons?” he asked softly.

Q nodded and held up a finger, slipping past to go into his back room, where he locked away the most expensive and most dangerous of his wares. He emerged with a tiny crystal vial, holding it up in front of the window to show the rich pure blue of the potion, only a few shades darker than the assassin’s eyes. He worked the top free from the vial, making sure a single drop clung to the end of it, then carefully let it fall onto his own tongue before stoppering the vial again. “Good for an hour,” he said, looking expectantly at the assassin, who blinked.

“You...plan to demonstrate on _yourself?”_

Q tilted his head. “Best way to guarantee my products.”

“But you have no idea what poisons I have on me!”

Q smiled. “Universal antidote,” he said quietly but with pride.

The man dosed him with several poisons before admitting they had no effect on Q. He handed over a bag of gold coins before leaving with the tiny crystal vial and a speculative expression.

And Q smiled and prepared the shop defenses for a possible break in. A day later, he came downstairs to find the Sleepless potion he’d poised over one of the windows spilled on the floor. He smirked as he cleaned up and waited.

The assassin lasted four days before coming back to the shop, dark circles under his eyes. By then, Q had discovered the man’s identity and heard all kinds of stories about his philandering ways. So he was prepared to be quite put out with the rogue-in-lord’s-clothing. He wasn’t prepared for Bond’s charm.

He was treated to a weary rueful smile as the assassin bowed to him with a flourish and then steadied himself on the edge of a counter as he lost his balance. “O master of potions, I beg of you to hear my apology.”

“Er...” Q said cleverly.

“I have been to every bloody potion shop in the city and then every hedge witch or wizard I could find and none of them could give me any relief from the Sleepless potion I encountered. In fact, most of them ran their analyses and then demanded to know what I’d done to you and promptly banned me from their shops.”

Q watched, stunned, as the man slipped to one knee and held out his hands beseechingly.

“Please, master Q, I offer my humblest apologies for assuming that your defenses would be so easily overcome.”

Q tried to push down the feeling of pleasure at Bond’s admission and crossed his arms. “What do you propose as reparation?”

Bond blinked up at him, swaying where he knelt. “I went to _every_ bloody potion shop and herbalist I could find. _And_ asked all my acquaintances while explaining my predicament.”

“Yes, so you said...” Q trailed off thoughtfully. “Oh.” He smiled. “Come into the back, I’ve a makeshift bed there.”

Bond staggered to his feet and trudged after him, flopping onto the surface, his eyes trying to track Q as he reached for a bottle.

“Here,” Q said, holding out a tiny pearlescent pill. “Open your mouth and put this under your tongue.” He watched Bond obey and then collapse bonelessly into a deep sleep.

He hummed as he set to work, grinding ingredients for his most requested potions. He’d need to increase his stock quickly, what with all the advertising Bond had done for him. That kind of word of mouth would bring in more gold than he would ever have dared ask for, and he paused to smile at the sleeping assassin.

Bond would be asleep for almost a day while recovering from the effects, but Q thought he might have time to wrangle some breakfast for him when he woke. He was rather looking forward to a further acquaintance.


End file.
